


Only the Beginning

by DarkQueenSigyn



Series: Hereditary Oneshots [2]
Category: Hereditary (2018)
Genre: Corpses, Death, Fix-it fic, Gen, Major Spoilers, Mentions of Suicide, NO ONE KNOWS, Sort Of, Spoilers, Violence, also warnings for cults and demons of course, dark as fuck, my city now, picks up immediately where the movie ended, references to dark and terrible canon things, trans charlie, warnings for:, where does Charlie end and Paimon begin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 02:03:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15232956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkQueenSigyn/pseuds/DarkQueenSigyn
Summary: Picks up immediately after the end of the movie. MAJOR SPOILERS.Paimon has been successfully summoned and given a suitable host body, but things don't go quite as planned...





	Only the Beginning

Peter’s -- or rather, Charlie’s -- hands shook.

All of the sounds that surrounded her -- him? -- were muffled, almost as if they were underwater. 

At first, he could only stare at the floor, trying to process what he had just been told. 

Her whole life, Charlie had known she was...different. Not like other kids. She had thought there was something wrong with her, but her grandma always told her she was just special.

Because she...wasn’t human.

His breath caught in his throat, and it was all he could do not to sob. 

He lifted his eyes, and his gaze fixed involuntarily on the headless corpses of his mother and grandmother.

Once he was looking at them, he couldn’t look away for a long moment.

Something stirred in the back of his mind, and he realized that he not only now possessed Peter’s body, but also...Peter’s memories.

Memories of their mother. Mom screaming and wailing with grief at Charlie’s funeral. Mom snapping at Peter at the dinner table. Mom performing the seance. Mom...in the rafters...with piano wire looped around her neck…

Charlie closed his eyes, trying his hardest not to cry. 

All at once, the noise around him came back into focus, sharply, and his eyes snapped open.

“Hail, Pai--”

“Stop.”

His voice was scarcely more than a whisper, and yet they all obeyed and fell silent almost instantly.

It was silent for a long moment, and he could feel their eyes on him, watching and waiting for what he would say next. 

He drew in a deep breath, and when he spoke again, his voice was stronger.  
“That is not my name.”

For the first time that night, the cultist seemed uncertain. They were caught off guard, clearly not expecting this to happen.

The redheaded woman -- Joan -- stepped forward again.

“Oh, Charlie…” she said gently, reverently. “I know this all must seem very...overwhelming. But, you’ll understand soon. Soon, you will --”

“No.”

For the first time, Charlie’s -- Peter’s -- voice sounded sharp, and he lifted his eyes to look at Joan.

“I’m not going to do anything for you.”

A murmur swept through the crowd of cultists, and even Joan was taken aback.

“Charlie --”

“You...killed them.”

Slowly, he took a step forward, and the cultist started to clambor back from where they had all been prostrate on the floor of the treehouse. 

“You killed my mother.”

Where his foot touched the wooden floor, it left a scorch mark in its place.

“You killed my father.”

He took another step, to the same effect. The crowd was beginning to visibly panic now, despite Joan’s futile attempts to restore order.

“You killed Peter.”

Charlie’s voice broke when he said his brother’s name, and the very foundation of the treehouse shook.

“You...you killed me!!”

The treehouse shook again, and the decomposing head of Charlie’s original body rolled to the floor.

“Charlie!” Joan cried out. “Please, please try to understand! Everything we did, we did for you! To make you happy! You wanted this healthy male host...you always wanted to be a boy, didn’t you?”

Tears started to spill freely from Charlie’s eyes, though his face was twisted with rage.

“Not like this!!” he yelled, and the candles laid out around them flickered.

He took another step forward, and his foot fell with a rumbling sound that once again shook the treehouse.

“You...never...wanted to help me,” he said, speaking very deliberately. “You only wanted...to help yourselves.”

By this point, a few of the cultists had broken from the crowd and bolted for the ladder, only to find that it had been snapped off. The treehouse shook again, and the deserters dropped the length of the tree to the ground below.

“You never...considered what I would want!!” Charlie spat venomously, tearing the crown from his head and throwing it down to the floor. “I didn’t want this!! I only ever wanted my family!!”

The treehouse shook harder and harder, and Charlie was unaware of the fact that his feet were now hovering off the floor. 

The cultists were all huddled together now, a singular mass, with Joan bracing herself at the very front of the pack. 

“Please!!” she begged. “My King --”

“SHUT UP!!!”

His voice became a growl. Joan suddenly seized, her body contorting unnaturally. She let out one last horrible scream, before her neck suddenly snapped.

The cultists all began to shriek, and all at once, all of the candles were blown out, plunging the treehouse into darkness.

A moment later, it burst entirely into flames. 

Charlie let out a guttural roar, watching as each and every one of them burned alive.   
The next thing he knew, he was on the ground. 

He could hear the crackling of the fire as the treehouse burned, the light casting shadows across his face. 

Slowly, he tried to take a step, then collapsed onto the ground.

Shaking, he buried his face in his hands and sobbed. 

“I’m sorry…” he whispered. “I’m so sorry, Peter…”

He wrapped his arms around himself, hugging his knees to his chest as he cried and cried. 

He couldn’t tell how long he sat there, even after he ran out of tears. 

After a while, he knew he had to move.

He was scared. He was still just a kid on the inside, and he didn’t know what to do without his family to help him. 

For the first time, he lifted his hands and just stared at them. 

Peter’s hands. 

He knew what he was now...what he was capable of.

It scared him. And yet…

Grandma had been right about one thing, at least. He was more powerful than he had ever imagined.

Slowly, he got to his feet, and walked across the yard, as if in a trance.

As he walked, absentmindedly, he clicked his tongue. 

He walked until he reached the driveway, where Dad’s car still sat outside the garage. The keys left in the ignition. 

Peter’s memories would drive for him. 

It would take some time for him to truly understand his powers, and learn to control them. Until then...it couldn’t hurt just to be a little human for a while.


End file.
